Night's Honor
Page 58

A muscle in his lean jaw ticked. “There are two bedrooms for attendants down the hallway, along with the apartment’s only bathroom.” He jerked his chin toward the other doorway. “My bedroom is there. I’m afraid we all have to share a bathroom. Modernizing Evenfall is a nightmare of logistics, and renovations have only gone so far.”
“Are you mad at me?” She searched his face again for some kind of clue as to what he was thinking or feeling.
The question was like touching a lit match to dry tinder.
He rounded on her and exploded with such quiet intensity she jumped. “God, yes, I’m angry. The chances you took—you bluffed with both Djinn.” He slid into rapid, forceful Spanish again.
Ducking her head, she studied the tips of her shoes and waited out the incomprehensible tirade, nodding every once in a while to show that she was still listening.
Was it a machismo thing? At his roots, he was, after all, a medieval Spaniard. In fact, despite having what seemed to be an inherently gentle nature, he had been an entitled medieval Spaniard, and he was very, very male.
She said experimentally, “I know. I should have let you handle everything, like you wanted. Right?”
When he paused, she looked up to find him glaring at her. He looked baffled and infuriated, and the tension in his posture was palpable.
“You know none of it would have happened without you. I would never have been able to talk to Julian or Soren, if you hadn’t paved the way.”
Renewed rage darkened his face. “If you think I’m angry because I wanted credit for anything, you don’t know me in the slightest.”
Instantly contrite, she whispered, “I apologize. That’s not what I meant.” She studied him anxiously. “Are you sorry you kissed me?”
His expression changed. It was the only warning she got as he lunged at her.
He was so fast. He had her pinned against the wall before she fully knew what had happened. Moving with precise intent, he cupped her jaw, tilted up her head and took her mouth with his.
This wasn’t a sensual, tender exploration like the first kiss had been. His lips were hardened and demanding, and he thrust deep with his tongue.
A flash fire washed across her nerve endings, lighting up her whole body.
He really was inside her mouth.
He really was pushing against her, thrusting a knee between her legs, the length of his body tight like steel.
She bucked against the wall then latched on to him. Hardly knowing what she did, she clawed at the simple leather tie that held back his hair and yanked it off.
His dark, chestnut hair spilled about his shoulders, drastically changing his appearance. Gone was the courteous, reserved man, and in his place stood a shockingly sensual stranger, with a hardened face and glittering eyes that flashed with green fire.
She fisted both hands greedily in the dark mass of his hair and kissed him back with everything she had.
He gripped her by the back of the neck, while a hard length grew to press against one of her hips. When she realized what it was, arousal pierced through her lower body and moistened the growing ache between her legs.
When he pulled back to stare down at her, he was breathing hard.
Their gazes locked. Deliberately, he slid a hand between their bodies and cupped her pelvis. The steady, knowledgeable pressure he exerted broke a moan out of her.
“No, Tess,” he said, very low, this sensual, glittering stranger. “I don’t regret kissing you in the slightest, and I have every intention of doing it again. A lot.”
“I see,” she whispered, shaken and delighted, and completely beside herself. She pushed against his hand, willing him to move, but he held rock steady. “Tell me you’re not going to stop now.”
“That depends.” Still holding her between her legs, he cupped her cheek and stroked her lips with his thumb. They were still moist from his kiss.
“On what?” She tried again to push against him. All she wanted to do was rub herself all over him like an alley cat, but not only did he have her pinned too effectively, his strength was immense.
He ducked his head and bit at her lips lightly, while running the tips of his fingers along the seam of her jeans. Between her legs. Even through the thick material, his touch left a trail of molten fire.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes, his expression serious. “On where you’re going to be tomorrow.”
She stilled, staring back. Once she had been able to set aside her prejudices and preconceived notions, her fascination for him had grown at an exponential rate. It would almost be easier to blame him for mesmerizing her, except she couldn’t do that to either one of them. She wouldn’t deny this attraction she felt for him, and she couldn’t insult his integrity like that, even in the privacy of her own mind.
“I . . . I don’t know where I’m going to be tomorrow. I guess I don’t understand.”
He stroked her hair back from her face. “I want you.” His voice was low, pitched for her ears alone, words deliberate and forceful. “I’ve wanted you for a while, but you were off-limits and that was all there was to it.”
Of course he would have been restrained. He set his code and lived by it. His soul was as straight and strong as tempered steel.
“I’m not working for you any longer,” she said. “I’m not under your power now.”
Although she was. She was.
“That’s right. You’re not.” He kissed her forehead. “Theoretically we can do whatever we like, but not that long ago you were deeply afraid of me. Now you’ve bought a stalemate with Malphas, and you’re free to go wherever you like. While I’m glad for that, I don’t want to rush you into something too soon, and fuck you in the heat of the moment only to watch you leave. Do you understand? I don’t want to do that, because I want you.”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath then let it out slowly, while the fever in her blood ratcheted down slightly to something a little more manageable.
He was right. She had a hundred thousand dollars in her bank accounts, and a wide-open road.
“I could have done that,” she admitted. “I don’t know.”
He studied her expression. “Promise me something.”
She focused on fiddling with a button on his shirt. “Maybe.”
“Promise you won’t just run away. Promise you’ll at least stay long enough to discuss what you might want to do next.”